Life with a hoe.

Let me tell you, working in a shamba is no joke. If you ever thought farming was a relaxing, zen-like hobby, think again! Especially when your shamba hasn’t seen a jembe in over 20 years. Clearing bushes, chopping weeds, and sweating it out in the scorching Murang’a sun? It feels more like survival training than agriculture. Trust me, I’m in Ithanga Ward, where the weather is as dry as my attempts to grow melons on this rocky, sandy, porous ground. 

Now, picture this: You used to work a nice office job. You had your desk, your swivel chair, maybe even an AC to keep things cool. Then, one day, you decide to embrace the farmer's life. “How hard can it be?” you think. Fast forward to Day 1—boom! Welcome to Shamba Boot Camp. The muscles you never knew you had are screaming at you, begging for mercy. Every part of your body aches like you've just fought a lion and lost. I even considered calling my boss from the office to apologize for ever thinking their job was tough. The only email I send now is to my lower back, pleading for it to hang in there.

But wait, there’s a silver lining! First, you can forget about paying for gym memberships. The hoe, the hammer, and the shovel are your new personal trainers. You’ll be ripped in no time—who needs deadlifts when you’ve got to lift a 20kg jerrican of water across a field? Second, eating from the sweat of your brow gives you a sense of accomplishment. It’s biblical! Every time I bite into a tomato I grew, I feel like a better Christian. It’s like communion, only with kales.

And the sleep? Oh, don’t get me started. After a day of swinging tools like Thor, you’ll sleep so deeply you might not even wake up until the melons have ripened—whenever that decides to happen. (Still waiting, by the way.)

The ground here is, well, interesting—it’s more rocks than soil, and it drinks water like a sponge. I’m basically trying to grow maize and beans on what feels like a gravel road. But that’s part of the fun! I’ve planted fruit trees, kales, tomatoes, maize, beans, and I’m optimistically working towards melons and pumpkins. Mistakes? Plenty! I think the tomatoes and kales have had a secret meeting to file complaints about the weather. But hey, every wrong move is just a step closer to figuring it all out.

I’ll admit, progress is slow. Farming makes you realize that patience is not just a virtue, it’s a survival skill. I look at the field, and sometimes I feel like a startup CEO: all the investment, but I’m still waiting for the returns. But day by day, with each blister, backache, and sunburn, I’m getting better. 

So, here’s to the farmer’s life in Murang’a, where the sun doesn’t just shine—it cooks you alive. But the end result? Worth every drop of sweat. Stay tuned for the melons. Hopefully, they won’t turn into watermelons... of tears!